


With a Little Help from my Friend Death

by n_nami



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kid!Fic, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mating, Purgatory, Wing Kink, bonding trope, season 8 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parents have a hard time with their children once Christmas season starts – usually culminating on Christmas Eve and the following night. Dean and Cas are no different. Well, maybe just a bit, though, because of their very special bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Little Help from my Friend Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilyleia78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyleia78/gifts).



> So, this is kind of your third prompt, mixed with some of your other preferences – and mine, admittedly, so I had very much fun writing this. I hope you like it, too. Merry Christmas! :)

“Cas, can you go?“ Dean mumbles lazily into his pillow when the familiar noise wakes them again. It can't be much later than 4 a.m., and it's the third time this night already. Dean's eyelids are heavy and he barely manages to pry them open. Isn't it Cas' turn anyway?

“Of course,” Cas answers, just as quiet, and although he's mostly human these days, he can still teleport. With a flutter of wings, he's gone. The familiar tug Dean always feels in the vague region of his chest doesn't even startle him any more; it's par of the course.

Dean thinks that Cas can only pull off this stunt because of the link that keeps him attached to Dean's soul, which apparently serves as a source of power to Cas' grace. Since four years ago, when Dean returned to purgatory to get Cas back, his grace had slowly worn down, just like during the apocalypse.

Pressing his eyes shut, Dean remembers that day very well.

***

They say you can't escape Death.

So when Death finds you, running is pretty much pointless. Even the Winchesters know that.

It happened on a rainy Tuesday evening, when Dean entered a crappy roadside diner on his way out of Texas. On his way away from where he left Sam with Amelia.

“Dean,” he heard from behind as he waited in line for a burger. The voice was familiar, but it sent an uncomfortable shiver down Dean's spine.

When he turned around, he found none other than Death himself standing there, one hand buried in his pocket, the other on top of his cane. Dean was momentarily speechless – because when had Death showing up behind you ever been a good sign? - and just nodded his head as a matter of greeting.

“I've been meaning to talk to you,” Death resumed slowly, tilting his head forward.

And if Death showing up right behind you was a bad sign, then Death actually wanting to talk to you was an even worse one.

“Yeah?” Dean croaked out.

“In private,” Death added and snapped his fingers.

After blinking once, Dean found himself behind the wheel of the Impala, on an otherwise empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere. With Death on the passenger seat, a brown paper bag in his lap and another one sitting beside him on the seat.

He shoved the second one towards Dean. “Help yourself. Probably the best burger in New York, from a small burger joint on the Upper East Side.”

“There's something like burger joints on the Upper East Side?” Dean asked, but the joke fell flat.

Death ignored the rhetorical question and instead took a bite of his burger.

Awkwardly, Dean unwrapped the one Death had brought for him and tentatively sunk his teeth into it as well. And no, Death hadn't understated the quality of the food, the meat was well spiced and juicy, the lettuce and tomato fresh, and the sauce simply delicious.

“You didn't want to talk to me about fast food, I guess?” Dean said meekly after a few moments of both of them chewing in awkward silence.

“Oh, what makes you think that?” Death's voice dripped with sarcasm. He dropped his hand to the floor of the Impala, bringing up a paper cup with what looked like Coke. “Actually,” he replied after sipping from it, “I came to talk to you about Castiel.”

And that was the point where Dean had officially lost any appetite he had left. He cringed. “What about him?”

Death's eyes tracked his every move as Dean placed the burger back into the bag, studied him with a scrutinizing look. “I am pretty sure it hasn't slipped your awareness that he's still in purgatory,” Death stated the obvious.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Dean averted his eyes. “No, of course not. But last time I checked, you didn't seem to care much about him... what was it? 'Stupid little soldier'?” He sounded bitter and he knew it. Still, he didn't even try to hide it. Of course the thought of asking Death for help had crossed his mind before, but after their last, rather untoward meeting, he hadn't dared even summoning him.

“That, in all honesty, hasn't changed much. You're right. But it is part of my... job, if you will, to watch humankind. You and your brother have always been sticking out like a sore thumb, and therefore caught my attention quite a few times. Let's just say, I know about what happened with you and Castiel in purgatory. Let's just say, I noticed you in particular during the past weeks. To make a long story short, I'm offering you a deal.”

“A deal?” Dean tried hard not to screw up his face in disbelief. Because when had deals not turned out to be a trap or ended up backfiring at them? “What kind of deal?”

“I'm giving you the opportunity to return to purgatory and retrieve Castiel,” Death explained simply and calm as ever.

Dean's head whipped around as his face fell. He had expected a lot, but surely not that. “What? Why?” he asked back without missing a beat.

Death raised an eyebrow and eyed him in that Don't-you-know-you-overgrown-amoeba way of his.

“You can't seriously tell me you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” Dean elaborated, reluctantly, because he knew the catch was about to come.

“No, I don't. I'm doing this, Dean, because I am old. As I told you before, I have lived longer than you can imagine. And cases like yours spice up the endlessly identical circles of life and death. As much as I hate to straighten the chaos in the natural order you always leave behind, I have to say, you are quite entertaining.”

“Okay, I guess,” Dean blinked in confusion, still weirded out by the situation he was stuck in, “I don't remember you being so cooperative at our last encounter.”

“Maybe because at that encounter, you _bound_ me,” Death snarled back and leveled Dean with a reprimanding glare, before he continued in a more placable tone, “But I have to hand it to you. You cleaned up your mess, both you and Castiel, and like the children you are, you deserve a reward. So take it or leave it, your choice.”

Dean swallowed again. Truth is, after everything that happened, he would've still done everything to get Cas out. Even more so after getting out himself, but having to leave him behind despite his earlier promises. “Let's talk details. I guess there are conditions?” he said silently.

Death sighs. “Of course there are. First, you have 24 hours, not a second more. I may be more powerful than God, and I am able to create another rift so you can pass through, but there's only so much time I am willing to waste to hold it open. Second, if you don't make it in time, then that's how it's gonna be. If you fail, you stay right where you are. You might get out again, but it's once again without Castiel. Third and last, taking Castiel with you depends on a ritual you have to perform.”

“A ritual?”

“A bonding ritual, to be exact. Castiel will know if you mention it to him. It is the way angels bond with their mates.”

“What, like... marriage?”

“Oh, believe me, this bond exceeds the human perception of marriage by far. For one, it's permanent. There's no such thing as a divorce in a mating bond. It lasts a lifetime, both for you and for Castiel – and yes, that includes the rest of eternity for him. That is also the reason why it's originally supposed to stay between angels, but a being like me can make it possible for a human like you,” Death resumed eating his burger after the explanation without deigning so much as a look in Dean's direction.

“And?” Dean prompted him. It didn't seem like a hell of a lot for something as meaningful as a mating bond. The whole eternity thing was kind of expected, but there had got to be more to it.

“And,” Death fixed him with yet another glance, “It's going to have side effects. It will make your soul mingle with Castiel's grace, and vice versa. That means once you've reached the escape portal, like last time, you will be able to take Castiel with you. It also has the effect that his vessel won't get destroyed in the process.”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good to me,” Dean answered quick like a shot. It really didn't sound so bad. “Let's do it.”

Death's eyebrows rose again in disbelief. “Well, that was quick. Consider me surprised.”

“Well, it doesn't sound like that bad a deal to me,” Dean shrugged unfazed.

“Not if you manage to get out in time, that is. For the record, I won't help you find Castiel. I only give you the opportunity to call for me once you find him. And to be clear, this ritual will only work if you both consent on it.”

“No problem, when do we start?” Dean clapped his hands together.

“When I have finished my burger. It is delicious after all. And you might leave your brother a message where you are going.”

And Dean realized with painful clarity that Death was right. If he went missing again, Sam should at least know where he was.

***

Chuckling tiredly to himself, Dean also remembers Cas’ initial refusal to forge their bond at all.

Thank God that Dean had managed to persuade him, in hindsight.

***

An hour and a phone call later (“Are you _crazy_ , Dean?” - “It's _Cas_ , Sam. And I _promised_ him.”) Dean found himself yet again standing in the grayish shadows beyond the old trees of purgatory. A shiver ran down his spine. He never thought he'd be here ever again. The place was as eerie as ever.

But yes, here he was, surrounded by monsters of all kinds, on the mountaintop he had escaped from all those weeks ago.

The good thing about mountaintops was that they could easily be defended, and Dean was armed to the teeth this time. He had his purgatory sword in his left hand, his trusted Colt 1911 in his right, and his pockets full of ammo.

Still, he took a look around first, made sure he was alone for the moment.

He also learned that prayers would get through in purgatory, but better you didn't close your eyes while praying.

So, with his eyes wide open, Dean said quietly, “Castiel. I'm back, and I've come to get you out. We don't have much time. Wherever you are, come to the mountaintop. You know which one.”

Dean looked around cautiously, checking for both monsters and Castiel, but nothing could be seen. To calm down, he counted to ten and looked again. But, still – nothing. Deciding that he'd better get out of range before he got spotted, Dean sat down behind a huge boulder on the flat, circular space, hiding partly in its shadow and using it for cover. There wasn't any sign of the angel nearby and it was hard for Dean to fight down his disappointment.

Dean didn't have the time to slash his way through purgatory again, asking for Castiel every two steps - not now. So after minutes of waiting, he sighed and started anew.

“Castiel, if you hear this, please come as soon as possible. It's important. I have a plan to get you out, but not much time to realize it. Please get your ass over here,” he begged, his voice a low whisper. “Cas, c'mon.”

Then he realized that Death had never told him whether he knew if Castiel was even alive or not. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

Another ten minutes later, Dean tapped his sword idly against his left boot. Something had to be wrong. Cas couldn't just play coy, not again.

“Cas, please don't do this to me again,” Dean muttered desperately, “Just don't. Come here and let me explain. Please.”

Nervously, he looked around, but found no threat, monster-wise. Apart from the whistling of the wind through the trees on the mountainside, it was quiet. Too quiet, almost.

So when the distinctive sound of fluttering wings broke the silence, Dean's head snapped around like a bee just stung him. “Cas,” he coughed, his throat dry.

“Dean,” was the surprised answer from a few feet away. Cas' clothes were almost completely torn to pieces and even dirtier than Dean remembered them. The trenchcoat hung in shreds from his shoulders, the cheap fabric ripped and torn up at the seams some time ago, letting dirt and goo taint every available spot. Blood was smeared across Castiel's face, clothing with the goo in his beard and hair, but Dean couldn't have cared less.

He was on his feet in a matter of seconds and slipped his gun into the waistband of his jeans.

“I almost thought you were dead for a minute there,” he managed, before he wrapped Castiel up in a bone-crushing hug, just like that last time he had met him. The memory of the promise he had made and hadn't kept made him withdraw quickly and clear his throat. Again, Cas hadn't hugged back, just stood there perplexed.

“Obviously, I am not. Sorry that I didn't appear earlier, but I was surrounded by Leviathan and couldn't teleport immediately without bringing you into danger. You know how it is,” Castiel answered.

Dean huffed. “I do.”

Their eyes met in a short encounter, and Dean smiled weakly. 

“You really-” Castiel started, but broke off mid-sentence.

“-came back for you, yeah. I don't like breaking my promises, Cas. I said I wouldn't leave here without you, and we both know what happened last time. So, I'm sorry, and here I am, and this time things are different.”

“Different how?”

Dean scratched his neck with his left hand, after transferring his weapon to the right. “This time, Death created a rift for us to pass through, but he only gave us 24 hours to use it. Anything more, he said, would be a waste of his time.”

“Dean,” Cas groaned, looking sideways, staring into space. “You know it doesn't work for me. The portal, I mean.”

“I know,” Dean nodded.

“Then what do you intend to do?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Death proposed a possibility to me. If we were bonded by angel-standards, our-- well, your grace and my soul would connect in a way that would haul you back topside with me.”

Castiel's eyes went wide in shock. “No, Dean, we can't do this. It's supposed to stay between two angels. It doesn't work on humans anyway, even if we considered it in earnest-”

“I do consider it. Death said he could make it work.”

“Which still doesn't mean that we should do it,” Castiel objected. “It's the angel mating bond we are talking about. It might have side-effects we can't even imagine right now.”

“Cas,” Dean groaned. “I'll do whatever it takes to get you out of here, end of discussion. I said so before, I'll say it again. My promise still counts. So side-effects or not, I'm doing this. I'm not gonna leave _again_ without you. So are you in?”

“Dean,” Castiel begged with that trademark head tilt, eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Do you understand what this means? Us, being bonded to each other for all eternity?”

“Death already explained it to me. So, yes, I know what I'm in for. And I honestly don't see a problem with it,” Dean countered, eyes darting back and forth around them, watching their surroundings carefully.

Castiel watched him closely from where he stood only inches away. Some things never changed. “You really came back here,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“For you,” Dean answered quick like a shot, shrugging. Of course he would come back for Castiel. “Because you deserve to be saved.”

The words were an echo of what the angel had told him all those years ago, when he had raised Dean from hell.

Castiel's gaze softened at that, but he never broke eye contact with Dean. It took him another few moments, but then he muttered, “Fine. I agree.”

Dean smiled and took the piece of paper Death had handed to him out of his pocket. It was the Horseman's summoning spell.

***

After Death had showed up and they agreed on forming the bond, everything went by in a blur.

They had to raise their hands and press them to each other's chests, over their beating hearts. And as Death began to mumble a spell that sounded a lot like Latin mixed with Enochian, Dean gasped at the blue rays of light that suddenly emerged from both their chests and wound and danced around their arms, seemingly flowing freely back and forth between them. The rays of light intermingled and glowed increasingly bright as the spell went on, until it had become one pulsing stream connecting Dean's and Cas' bodies.

When Death had eventually finished the spell, he covered both their hands with his, and an orange glow exploded from Death's palms.

With that, the band of light vanished.

“Done,” Death announced. Another snap of his fingers opened the portal, the rift, whatever it was, beside him and they all stepped through.

***

That was the bond that they entered into eternally, without the option of divorce and with, as Death called them, 'side effects'.

Nowadays, Dean calls them 'perks'.

Because when he feels Cas’ sigh of resignation rather than hears it from two rooms down the hall, he knows that while it was Cas' turn to get up, he's still required to help. Dean concentrates for a short moment, focuses momentarily on the location from where Cas' remaining grace shines bright and clear, and takes the leap. When he opens his eyes, he stands right behind Cas, who's sitting on the edge of a small bed. That's the kind of perk he quickly got used to, although it only works this way, towards Cas. He can't teleport anywhere he wants by himself. Which Cas, for the record, is still able to do.

“What's the matter, huh?” Dean asks with a tired smile, sitting down on the bed beside his angel and looking at the toddler resting under the sheets.

“Daddy,” she whines. “Is it tomorrow a'ready?”

“I bet Papa told you this already, sweetie,” Dean answers and runs his hand through her long, wavy blonde hair. “You have to wait for Christmas morning, just like everyone else.”

“Don't wanna,” she pouts.

“I don't want to either, believe me. But those are the rules,” Dean says, smiling softly. Cas pokes him in his side for it as if to say 'Don't put a bug in her ear'. “Everyone has to be patient,” he adds quickly.

“Mpf.”

“You can 'mpf' all you want, little one,” Dean grins, while his other hand runs up to tickle her.

As soon as the first finger has barely touched her waist, she starts to squeal. “Stop it, Daddy! No fair!”

“That's what I tell Papa every Christmas, too, and it hasn't helped me ever.”

“Dean,” Cas levels him with a glare, but Dean can tell it's only for their daughter. What Cas doesn't show but Dean does clearly feel is amusement and a lot of affection and love.

He winks at Cas, so that the still-giggling little girl can't see, and says, “Okay, Mary Jo, let's make a deal.”

“A deal?” she repeats with genuine skepticism, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Only her face with the big, deep blue eyes and the blonde hair that surrounds her head like a halo are visible.

Dean has been careful with words like this. There are too many negative memories attached to deals, but Mary will learn from an early age on which ones she'll get to trust and which ones she'd better leave her hands off. However, Dean and Cas agreed on not raising her as a hunter.

It hadn't been an easy decision, but the day the baby had set foot into their lives – or rather, screamed and cried her way – Dean had known that he couldn't keep doing what he did. Going on hunts, even every once in a while, put them all at risk. So they had settled down, near Sam's old place in Kermit, Texas.

The itch of the hunt still taunts Dean every once in a while. When he sees the news or reads the paper, it's not easy to overlook or overhear the type of cases they used to take a closer look at. But while Dean wasn't able to simply shrug this off just a few years ago, couldn't let it be somebody else's business, he has got a greater responsibility now. The responsibility for his little family, for his little girl and for his husband. Because that's what Cas is, because of their bond.

One day, though, Mary will need to know about all the supernatural beings out there, and Dean fully intends to show her everything he knows. Not for hunting, but so she can protect herself. She is half-angel after all, just powerless, for the time being. No one clearly knows if and when her grace will ever begin to work.

Which is about everything Sam had managed to dig up after Dean wondered where angel children even came from. Because clearly, neither him nor Cas could get pregnant, but some really old angel lore – from Bobby's burnt-down library – had revealed that the angel's general genderless-ness or whatever made it possible for a baby to be born in heaven. Just like that. Or, as Sam had phrased it, 'if two angels love each other very, very much, and their grace is connected then offspring will be born out of their combined spirit and grace. In your case, it's a Nephilim, and she got sent to earth and handed over to your care.' Dean remembers having snorted at that while having the merely days old Mary cradled in his arms to bottle-feed her.

Three and a half years had passed by since then.

“A deal. If you are patient and try to sleep at least until 8 a.m., you're gonna get an early Christmas present. I promise.”

She falls silent at that. “Papa?” she asks after a beat, squinting at Cas warily.

After a scrutinizing look at Dean, who winks once again, Cas nods. “Okay.”

“So, will you be a good girl and sleep?”

“Read me a story first,” Mary demands and points at the battered book of fairy tales Sam bought for her when she was not even a year old. Her request is clearly addressed at Dean, because Daddy is always the one who puts her to bed while Papa is responsible for bathing and tooth brushing beforehand. She knows very well that if Cas reads stories, then she's just gonna get lame Biblical stuff. Even though, Dean knows, those put her to sleep even faster than any fairy tale ever could.

“What's the word?” Cas prompts her softly.

“Please,” she adds with another pout.

Dean sighs over-dramatically, which makes her giggle in glee, and starts to read the story of Little Red Riding Hood, because he knows Mary loves it. All the while, Cas sits behind him, one leg on the floor besides Dean's, the other bent and at the other side of Dean's hip, both arms wrapped now around Dean's waist and his chin rested on Dean's shoulder. He doesn't say a word, as always, but listens carefully, and Dean can feel the contentment ooze in waves through him as well.

By the time the evil wolf eats Red Riding Hood's grandmother, Mary is fast asleep.

Cas smiles to himself when he tucks her in and kisses her on the forehead.

They tip toe out of the room, check that the night light is on, setting the room into a dim orange glow, and close the door silently behind them.

“Think we finally put the monster to sleep this time?” Dean asks, although he can't help but grin.

Cas sighs. “Her? Yes. But I'm more awake than ever.”

“Aw,” Dean mocks him while he follows Cas into their bedroom, closes the door and locks it in one move. Cas knows exactly what that means. “Think we can use that somehow?”

“We are going to be so tired tomorrow, Dean,” Cas objects, but the vibe Dean gets from him is unmistakable. Arousal.

“So? We're gonna be tired one way or another,” Dean states as he pulls Cas slowly but surely towards their bed.

Cas raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't complain when Dean sits down on the edge of the mattress, facing the mirror in their built-in armoire, and pulls him down onto his lap.

From the moment their lips meet, Dean is instantly reminded of the first time they kissed, because he was just as instantly breathless then as he is now. As he always is, every single time. Their bond, weird thing that it is, has a couple perks, not just Dean being able to teleport towards Cas if need be. It started with them feeling each other's feelings, to the point where they could almost read each other's minds after a couple months of practice, even though Cas had long lost his powers by then. 

And the link made sex truly otherworldly. There is no other description for it. Feeling what the other one needs -- craves -- in such a situation is one hell of a convenient advantage, one that Dean wouldn't want to be without now. Still, after over four years, he's able to read Castiel pretty well, both in and out of bed. Dean knows what Cas likes now, but back in the beginning of their relationship, when they both were inexperienced, it had been their most reliable source for helpful advice.

Dean remembered vividly how they had kissed for the first time – in a crappy, green-and-red themed motel room, after they discovered that since their bonding, they couldn't stay away from each other for too long. While Cas had been exploring around the globe, caught up on what he'd missed in that year and a half, Dean had found himself restlessly pacing up and down the motel room. Sam hadn't been with him, he had been staying at Amelia's place, and thank God because Dean would've never lived this down. Sam would have teased him endlessly about the fact that he almost freaked out when Cas finally returned to the motel room. Dean had hugged him tightly and told him to never do that stupid thing again, just flying off without telling Dean. Or taking him with.

Cas, as clueless as Dean, because he’d never experienced such a bond either, said, “I find myself constantly drawn to you, Dean. So don't worry, I'll always come back to you.”

At which point Dean looked down at him, waited for Cas' eyes to find their way from his lips to his eyes, and then tipped his chin upwards to kiss him.

After discovering the constant urge to be together, they also developed a habit of sharing a bed, even though Cas still had had enough grace in him back then to not need any sleep. Technically. Emotionally, though, was Cas so smitten with Dean that he shared the bed with him anyway.

The first time they had had sex took the cake, though. For a first time, it had been incredibly good – cliché to say, but Dean still thinks that it was just the power of the mental link.

Because neither of them was prepared for what was to come. 

The moment Dean had hit his climax, the room had suddenly turned black, the lights had flickered like a lightning storm, and big, dark wings had shown up behind Dean, just for that one blink-and-you-miss-it moment.

They had been staring at each other in disbelief, and once realization hit in, Dean had broken down on Castiel, still buried deep within the angel, and had started to laugh.

That is the main reason why they kept a floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bedroom. Dean just loved having sex in front of it, loved seeing the shadows of wings sprouting from his own back, even though they were indeed just shadows.

All part of the bond.

So, when Cas straddles and rides him nice and slow tonight, Dean deliberately sits with his face towards the mirror. The position allows him to watch every move of Castiel's hips, allows him to see his own cock slip in and out of the other man's body – but, most importantly, Dean can see the shadows of the wings in the moment of his own orgasm, with Cas still perched on his lap. The image is so beautiful that it's still burned into his retina when he falls into a deep sleep afterwards next his husband.

He barely remembers unlocking the door again so Mary would be able to come into their bedroom if she wanted to.

“Which present do you intend to give her?” Cas asks then, after having regained his breath.

“Oh, a bowl of Daddy's Cocoa Puffs for breakfast for once,” Dean grins.

Cas reciprocates the happy smile and pulls Dean up into his arms.

They fall asleep, and Mary finds them wrapped around each other in the morning – way before 8 a.m., for the record.

“It's Christmas!” she squeals in delight as she pounces onto the bed and lands right on top of both her parents. “C'mon, get up! Uncle Sammy will be here soon!”

In an effort to position herself between the two men, she kicks Dean's stomach dead on, while Cas only grumbles tiredly and does nothing to help Dean out of his misery. And although it's been a long time since Dean was as tired as he is now, he is also very sure that he has never been happier.

Thank God. - No, scratch that. Thank _Death_. What a weird thing to think.

THE END


End file.
